The truth is simple & feels good, clean & right
by atlimbo
Summary: There are stories the mouth can't tell fast enough, like the bringing together, the end of missing someone. Oneshot.


**Title**: The truth is basically simple and feels good, clean and right.  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Gossip Girl  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Blair/Dan  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Language  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 1,812  
><strong>Summary<strong>: There are stories the mouth can't tell fast enough, like the bringing together, the end of missing someone.  
><strong>Author's Notes<strong>: Spoilers/speculation for end of Season 4 and beginning of Season 5. Title is from the Chick Corea quote. Not beta'ed.

_"People don't write sonnets about being compatible. Or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones. L'amour fou."_

Dan had told her that if she got bored in the palace, if she ever wanted to watch a movie with a friend, he'd be there. She had figured they'd share a pen-pal-like existence as she planned the wedding and wracked up long distance phone bills, watching Cary Grant on Sunday nights. She had not figured she'd be sitting on his couch in Brooklyn in October, sans engagement ring (really, what had she and Louis been thinking? He was wonderful, a true Prince Charming, and it had hurt her to admit in late August that she was aborting a child that could possibly be his, or possibly be Chuck's, but hypothetical Royal Heir or not, she'd done the right thing and she knew it). And yet, here she was, in a slight daze as Dan puttered around in the kitchen, untucked flannel shirt, popcorn popping in the microwave, musing outloud about what she'd like to watch. When she'd returned home with her life packed in Louis Vuitton, there were few who understood. Serena visited from L.A. with stories of the golden coast and celebrity wrap parties. Her mother held her hand as she cried silently, chin held high, in the waiting room of the clinic. Chuck and Nate seemed to settle into a new routine entirely, leaving her mostly to herself once Serena headed home. Dan's outsider status, cemented by the publication of 'Inside' and his inevitable outing as its author, had kept him away.

And so one night, she made her way to Brooklyn, much to Cyrus and Eleanor's surprise when she told them she'd be taking the town car for the evening. She hadn't done much that involved stepping foot outside the penthouse in three weeks. Cyrus took Eleanor's hand and beamed a proud grin at his stepdaughter.

She'd ridden in silence, crying again - she never seemed to cry loudly these days, felt as if she didn't do anything loudly at all, hardly made a noise - and the tears wet her cheeks even as she stood in front of his door. She wondered for a moment if Vanessa had come back from Spain, if Jenny was still in Hudson, if he was alone on a Tuesday. Blair turned, she should have called and as she began to make her way back down the stairs, the loft door opened and she stopped. Turning she said, voice cracked from disuse and a broken heart, "I should have called," and he stood, mouth agape, stunned by her.

"What are you doing here?" His head shook a little bit, as if trying to rid his eyes of the sight before him, surely a mirage in the social desert that was his life.

"I thought we could watch a movie; I brought _All About Eve_. You didn't come around when I got back into town, so I came to you," it seemed simple as she said it out loud but she still felt incredibly foolish. Why did she want to see Humphrey, anyway? Why didn't she seek out Chuck's quiet solitude, Nate's companionable smile? But here she was, reasoning be damned, and when Dan moved back a step, indicating she should come, she climbed back up the remaining stairs and entered the loft. It hadn't changed, and the fact comforted her, washing over her.

And so, a month later, she sat once more on his couch, in a spot that had become 'hers' as they'd done this a few nights a week since that first. He would study, they would watch movies, he'd write, sometimes she'd read. He talked a lot, which she had to get used to all over again after their time apart, but eventually his rambling became soothing and familiar again. She didn't cry as much anymore, after only four weeks of spending time with Dan, Blair had noticed.

Four more weeks, the two of them sharing a bottle of cheap wine (Dan's pick) after Thanksgiving Day spent at Lily's penthouse with the Roses, the Humphreys, and the van der Woodsens (Chuck and Nate had decided to spend the holidays on the beach in South Africa) she noticed she'd even chuckled a little bit.

Christmas Eve he joined Blair and Serena at the Waldorf Penthouse to exchange gifts and drink rare, expensive champagne (Blair's choice, of course).

On New Years Even no one seemed surprised when he kissed her on the cheek at midnight before running off to find his date.

A new year spent feeding ducks and avoiding the spotlight (Blair was also avoiding college, Dan noted more than once), and a Spring spent filling out forms to re-enroll, she found that a year had passed in days and months without her consent or knowledge. It had been a quiet year, something she'd never had before.

When the first of classes rolled around (Dan was a senior now, graduating just after Christmas, early of course. Blair was starting her junior year) she awoke to the smell of coffee. Come down from her bedroom she raised her eyebrows at Dan standing in the foyer. "You came uptown on the morning classes start? What's going on?"

Without explanation, he hands her a steaming paper cup and leans in for a kiss. Not on the cheek, not the way you kiss a friend you haven't seen in a while and certainly not a friend who hasn't even showered yet. His hands were occupied and so it was an awkward sort of angle from which he kissed her, but he kissed her nonetheless and when he pulled away the shock that registered on her face caused him to smile. "It's a new year," he said, before turning.

Blair got ready for class in a daze. That is not how you kiss somebody. By the time she took a seat at the front of her international business classroom, Blair Waldorf is positively fuming and she barely makes the 80 minutes of class without storming to NYU and demanding an explanation.

It takes her until late that night find him between a full day of classes and being unable to convince the family driver that he should drive very slowly through the streets of Brooklyn until she happens to see him on a street corner or in a Bulgarian coffee shop. It's at the loft, he's wearing a plain white v-neck t-shirt and long khaki shorts. He's barefoot and she's wearing Gucci flats. He smiles when she storms in, "I was wondering how long it would take the hit squad to seek me out. I'm surprised you didn't fly Serena in all Special Ops style this afternoon." He heads toward the kitchen and takes a small tub of local-made strawberry ice cream out of the freezer, grabbing two spoons and sitting at a the bar. "Want some?" He's so casual she could rip his hair out.

"You kissed me!" Blair finally explodes. "And it wasn't a test and it wasn't a scheme and I was still in my robe and sleep mask!" She hadn't brushed her hair, had only expected Dorota to have coffee brewing or maybe even her stepfather. She certainly hadn't expected him to be standing in her foyer, looking rumpled and excited in a black-hooded blazer and hipster jeans. And kissing her. She hadn't expected that.

He looks amused at her outburst. "Yes, and I'd like to do it again, even if you have brushed your hair. Would that be alright?" He takes a bite of the ice cream straight from the tub and she huffs, sitting on the stool next to him in confusion and steals his spoon to take some for her. Dan picks up the other without comment.

"But, when did you decide that?" Ice cream.

Dan makes that over the top thoughtful face: pursed lips, wrinkles in his forehead, eyes up to the ceiling. "Blair," he pauses, and then things come out in a rush: she's read his book, has always known how he feels, has ignored it valiantly for a year, he never wanted to scare her when she returned and came back into his life so different, so changed, but he loved even the changes, and yes, he loved her, loves her, still can't believe it's true but it is. Dan loves every single thing about the 95-pound package of girly evil, the Google definition of revenge. Dan Humphrey loves Blair Waldorf and it's about time she faced it.

To Blair it sounds as if he hasn't even taken a breath and then her own confession spills out, hesitantly between scoops of ice cream (calories don't count if the only person who sees them is a nobody from Dumbo): she didn't know what to think, and she had not been ignoring it thank you very much it was simply a question of choosing to accept a different reality one in which he had become her best friend (besides Serena, of course, but she was thousands of miles away and a girl had to make do). And this was not how you confessed your love to a lady or did Dan not understand anything about the sappy lovelorn characters he claimed to shape in his stories? Standing, spoon brandished like a pointed finger in his direction, she takes a deep breath and launches a much better argument. "It's supposed to be epic! Surprise proposal on top of the Eiffel Tower, chartering a private jet to Niagara Falls, a private beach in the Hamptons!"

His eyes are wide as he tries to hold in laughter and he busts out with, "A beautiful view from a hotel rooftop in Manhattan?" His voice is sharp but his eyes are bright. "Blair, crazy love is epic because it's a fantasy. I love you. I know it's not Paris and I know I'm not a prince or a villain or a fairy tale but I love you." He's standing now too, in her silence, the look on her face one that might precede tears and he's scared. He takes her in her arms, bringing her close to him, kissing her forehead. "I simply love you, and want you, and I believe it's the most 'epic' thing I've ever experienced." She looks up at him, doe eyes round and glistening, and lets out the smallest breath of surprise.

"It's that simple, is it?" He nods and leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Nothin' simple about it," he answers, smiling, as she leans in to kiss him almost in slow motion. Their arms around each other, Dan dips her, right there in the loft, and the kiss deepens. Blair smiles through it, romance and excitement coursing through her veins. Maybe the right love could be the great love, after all.


End file.
